Thoughts
by Annie Rini Romanov
Summary: PG-13 for violence in the beginning. Harry finds refuge at Hogwarts from his abusive Uncle, but can't escape his haunting nightmares. Can Hermione help? Please R&R, flames welcome! *Finished*
1. Default Chapter

            A/N: I am posting this at the request of my good friend. She's too shy to say it's hers. FLAME FLAME FLAME! Er… constructive criticism please. *Grins*

            Disclaimer: Lucky for you, I don't own Harry Potter. Heaven knows what would happen if I did. It all belongs to J.K Rowling. 

            Harry's head spun, made worse by the dancing dots in front of his eyes. Dimly, he reached out and tried to catch them. Why were they flying so fast? Why did his hand go right through them? Why did he have pain rolling up and down his back like a steamroller…

            He didn't realize he had crashed to the floor until two large sausage-like hands picked him up. He was shaken back and forth until his head rolled forward and he vomited. 

            "Get up off my clean floor! Do you realize how long your Aunt Petunia worked to get it polished and perfect? _DO YOU_?" The fat beefy pig yelled this question in Harry's face so forcefully all Harry could do was nod numbly. He couldn't even see…

            Harry's world got darker and darker. He searched for the reason for all his pain, but found instead an unfeeling, reassuring sleep. 

**A/N: I know that Uncle Vernon would never be that abusive, but, ya know, it's for plot purposes. **


	2. Safe, at Hogwarts

A/N: Yes, it's angsty, but it's my friends so it's GOOD! 

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.

                                    Two Months Later, at Hogwarts

            Harry rested his head gratefully onto his pillow, breathing in the comforting scent of Hogwarts. Finally, he was back… he was home…away from the Dursleys. He could hear Ron walking into the dormitory, getting on his pajamas, having a loud conversation with Dean and Seamus who had already come in about Quiditch, and at long last, getting into his bed. The light went off, and Harry gratefully welcomed the silence and darkness. He was so much more used to it, after all. 

            Unwillingly, memories floated into his conscience. NO! Thought Harry desperately, he was away from all that, he didn't have to worry about Uncle Vernon whipping him, Dudley taunting him, Aunt Petunia, looking overwhelmed by it all and never doing anything to stop it, day after day, afraid and in pain…

            Harry let out a terrified yelp, he hadn't even been aware that he was dreaming. Horrified, he realized that his pillow, held so lovingly earlier, was drenched in his own tears. 

            "Alright, Harry?" came Ron's sleepy voice from across the room. 

            "Yeah," lied Harry dully, climbing out of his bed. "I'm going down to the common room to write a letter to snuffles," Ron's snores assured Harry that he had neither heard nor cared about what Harry had said. Harry understood completely, after all he was on the Quiditch team now along with homework. 

            Sighing noisily, Harry made his way to the common room, and was surprised to see Hermione slumped in a chair in front of the fire. Not wanting to disturb her Harry snuck past and sat in the armchair next to her. He stared into the burning ember, wondering faintly why the fire always burned. 


	3. A Good Sound Whipping

A/N: Actually, this isn't my story, so I shouldn't be putting an authors note, eh? ***Chuckles nervously*** I'm sure my friend won't mind though….

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. 

            Harry stared blankly in the fire, trying hard to resist the temptation to throw himself in it. It would be so easy, he wouldn't have to see the Dursleys again… but no, soon he would be an adult and could move out of their residence. This thought comforted Harry, allowing him to shut his eyes momentarily. 

             "Harry?" asked a timid voice beside him, causing him to jump and open his eyes wide.

            "Oh- hello Hermione." Harry said nonchalantly, deliberately turning his face away from hers. 

            "Harry, you shouldn't be up so late, we have a test tomorrow in Snape and you know how he likes to test you so hard. Anyway, I was just making some hats for S.P.E.W-don't give me that look Harry- I even had Neville helping me until he pierced him self for what seemed the hundredth time with the needle and…Harry, what's wrong?" Harry had been listening with what he hoped was a polite expression, and had completely forgotten about his tear-stained face. 

            "Nothing!" Harry lied for the second time this evening, mopping his face clean of the few stray tears that had fallen a while earlier. Hermione gave him a look that said "I know you're lying so don't bother." 

            "Embers made my eyes water," Harry mumbled lamely, turning away from her again, crossing his arms across his chest moodily. He could feel Hermione peering at him quizzically; he didn't even need to look. He hated it when people pretended that they knew what he was going through, when they never could. Didn't they know he had gone through a lot more than he had, endured so much more? Frustration boiled in him, causing tears to flow onto his cheeks, dripping onto his lap. 

            "What's the matter, Harry? Just tell me, maybe I can help." Hermione offered softly, edging closer to him. Harry wanted to yell at her, tell her to go away, but all that came out was a strangled choking sound. 

            "Harry!" Hermione cried, alarmed. She knelt in front of him, worried. "Harry, I've never seen you cry before, please tell me!" She was close to tears herself. She urgently searched his face, as if the answers were written there. Harry closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her. 

            Is it about Snuffles?" Harry didn't answer. "Or your parents?" Harry wished she would shut up. Everything she mentioned was opening a new wound, making it so much more painful just to think. "Is it," her voice lowered to a whisper, "…your Uncle Vernon? I heard Ron's parents and Dumbledore speaking when I visited the burrow this summer, they said he did awful things to you, that his temper had gotten worse since he leaned your Aunt Petunia had been "fraternizing" with wizards, and that," she gulped, "…that he _whipped _ you." 


	4. Never Alone

A/N: Yes, this chappie is longer, at the requests of my lovely reviewers out there…. *sniffs* I LOVE YOU GUYS! Moreover, this will be the last chapter, as I think it has ended beautifully, and needs no further explanation.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. 

            At this suggestion, Harry got up and walked closer to the fire, hoping Hermione wouldn't notice that she was right. The fire crackled and popped merrily, almost as if it was betraying Harry by acting happy. At least the rain that lashed at the windows from outside fit his mood wonderfully, and the darkness that clung to the corners and mysterious nooks and crannies appreciated that he wanted to be left alone, as they didn't come near him. Harry pulled his sweater down farther, for he was self-conscious of Hermione staring at his back. 

            "Harry, can I see your back?" Hermione asked carefully. She stepped up next to him and looked up into his brilliant green eyes, which reflected the cheerfully glowing fire. 

            "Why?" Harry said flatly, his eyes flashing dangerously. Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth as if she was afraid that Harry might whip out his wand and try to do her in. Hermione gently took Harry's hand in hers and gave it a tight reassuring squeeze. Hermione had never done that before, and in his surprise almost dropped her hand. But he let it stay there. Her surprisingly sturdy hand felt so good in his, and for a few moments Harry's heart rushed, but then he stifled the feeling, reminding himself that he was angry at her. For some reason though, he couldn't bring himself to let go of her. 

            "How was your summer?" Hermione said, almost casually, stealing looks at Harry. She didn't appear to have noticed that she had just asked a terrible question, she didn't even blink. Harry knew better though. _Don't say anything. _Harry told himself forcefully.  Y_ou'll just cry again…_ but before he knew it, Harry was telling her everything that had happened over the summer. Slowly, with a monotone voice at first, but then faster and more emotionally, as he allowed the whole terrible story spill out of his mouth, surprising himself with the fierce hatred that he said these words with. He watched Hermione' s expression grow dark and angry as he talked, reflecting the way Harry felt. Her hand left his and was rolled into a fist, that she kept clenched tightly at her side.  

            Finished, Harry took a deep shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes together. He was shaking, for a reason he was not quite sure of. Slowly, Hermione turned him around, and lifted up the back of his sweater. Harry heard her gasp as her eyes beheld the horrific gashes and cuts that Harry's Uncle Vernon had etched there. She traced them with her finger, until Harry flinched, and she pulled his sweater back down. 

            "Oh, Harry…" she whispered, her voice wavering, "I'm so sorry…for this…and your Uncle, and _everything_." Harry turned quickly and wrapped his arms around her, his eyes burning fiercely. Harry held her closely, until Hermione pulled away and looked at him. Harry was surprised to see her face wet with tears, too. 

            "We have to so something!" she cried angrily. Harry shook his head glumly.

            "We can't." he said simply, and he knew that was true. He retreated to the couch and sat down, placing his head in his hands miserably. Hermione sat next to him, and looped her arms around his waist. She went to high though, and Harry let out a gasp off pain. Hermione pulled out her arms, and instead tenderly cupped his face in her hands and smiled, then leaned up and laid the sweetest of kisses on Harry's cheek. Harry could feel his eyes overflow again, as the kiss of a girl was almost too overwhelming after the summer. 

            "It…hurt." Harry tried in vain to find the words that described the physical, but even more, the emotional pain of the previous summer. 

            "It hurt me too," Hermione whispered gently. Harry leaned his head on her shoulder and cried. He cried for himself, for his friend, for his cousin, Aunt, and Uncle, for his parents, for Sirius, for the world. Harry could feel Hermione crying too, stoking his hair delicately. Her body shook in grief against his, and Harry knew he was not alone. 

Sorry if this took so long, for some reason my computer would not let me get onto Fanfiction.net. Anyways, I'm done! This was a fun story, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, as you gave me the strength to get on. You Rock!!!! 

                                                                                                                        Rini Romanov


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